


Your heart is now washed up in bleach

by thought



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Access Intimacy, Multi, Non-Linear Narrative, The blurry line between an abused analogy and a latent synergistic alien neural connection, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 12:22:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18208265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thought/pseuds/thought
Summary: There's always a war if you look hard enough.





	Your heart is now washed up in bleach

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, we're ignoring Uprising over here.

No one who likes music as much as Newt does can truly hate math. Hermann must know this. Newt composes concertos in the back of his head when he's trying to sleep and he wants to give them to Hermann, spill his mind out through his fingers and offer it splayed out on thick folios of staff paper, press himself into Hermann's narrow hands and just hope nothing gets lost in translation.

*

Newt is eight and twenty and thirty-six and always the smartest person in the room, always frantic to be liked but not sure how to go about it, always shoving pill bottles to the back of the drawer because you can have him unmedicated or you can have him suicidal and he's no use to the war effort if he's dead.

What war?

There's always a war if you look hard enough.

Newt has always liked the same films, the same candies, the same people, the same subjects. His childhood is spent sleeping on floors and backseats and balled up jackets, concert hall to dive bar to lecture hall to hotel room. He's loud and clever and always curious but his uncle and his father are endlessly patient and indulgent and their wide circle of friends and acquaintances follow their lead. When Newt and his dad decide to follow his uncle to Boston Newt doesn't think much of it, doesn't expect that things will change. Of course they do. 

In the drift, Hermann's father stands in a gleaming, empty kitchen and shakes his head over the grade on a history test. Hermann cries in his room and knows that he is weak, useless, vulnerable.

Newt was never a child, and it is a cruelty beyond words that he was the one out of the two of them to be allowed a childhood.

*

"I don't like people," Hermann says, which is a lie because given the option anybody will always choose the quietly sardonic asshole in the corner with the British accent over the weird kid with too many tattoos and too many too loud words scrabbling out of his throat on a tide of uncomfortable enthusiasm. Hermann has a wife who is brilliant and gorgeous and just as much of an asshole as he is, and he has siblings and university acquaintances who send photos of their pets and children and corner offices.

Newt wants to shake him until he understands how lucky he is. Newt craves personal connections, long-term and stable and sure, he can play at being less intelligent and more reserved and more interested in mundanity, but he can't keep it up for long. Hermann may claim to despise other people, but at least he has even one person he could call up to go for a fucking coffee.

There's an empty connection port inside of Newt where a love for humanity is supposed to fit. He has convinced himself that if he fills it up one person at a time it will eventually snap into place.

*

Newt first texts Vanessa by accident. He'd taken Hermann's phone away from him as soon as Sasha pulled out a recycled wine bottle full of vodka, because nobody needs one of the PPDC's top scientists drunk emailing UAB. Again. Unfortunately, Newt neglected to take into account his own alcohol tolerance (not that low, shut the fuck up Hermann). So when he pulls a phone out of his pocket and unlocks it directly to an open text message thread, he just assumes it's the group message they'd all used to organize tonight's poker night. He also (reasonably!) assumes it's his own phone -- shitty PPCD issue model, system language set to German, located in his jeans pocket.

'let the recrd show tht tendo owes russians 3 bars of chocolate, teh good shit bc fuck Nestle im making an executive decisn. Also rmindrr to self. investigate rumours hemann ws cool kid at academy'

He hits send and tosses the phone somewhere behind him on the floor. "Ok," he says. "There's written proof now, can we fucking continue?"

"Yeah, man," Tendo says. "Come on, I thought I left getting bullied by the popular table back in high school."

"Oh stop," Hermann says, huffing. "They're exaggerating. We were hardly popular back at the Academy."

Alexis' eyebrows shoot up. "You and I remember Academy very differently."

"We controlled the alcohol," Sasha says.

"Wait," says Newt. "Like, some sort of black market?"

"Hardly," Hermann says.

"Exactly," Alexis says. "Also, we were best pilots, he was best scientist. Our instructors couldn't keep up."

"God," says Newt. "I'm almost glad I didn’t attend the same session as you guys. I definitely spent my entire time in the Academy getting the shit kicked out of me and pissing off the instructors. Pretty sure my head wound up in a toilet at one point."

"I tried to help him," Tendo says, sighing dramatically. "But he was just a lost cause."

"The pilots put rotten eggs in your shampoo," Newt says, flatly. "Don't even pretend you were cool."

"Don't ruin my mystique," Tendo objects. "It's all I've got going for me. Not all of us can magically uplift our coolness factor by maybe killing a guy."

"Excuse me?" Hermann says.

"Oh man, you haven't heard this?" Tendo folds his hands and clears his throat. Newt reaches back for the phone because he'd rather stare at his twitter feed than have to hear Tendo tell this story again.

Newt did not kill a dude at the Academy. Don't worry about it.

He's surprised when he unlocks the phone and frowns down at the response from what is definitely not the group thread.

'I presume this isn't Hermann.'  
'Dr. Geiszler, if I had to guess.'

'oh shit who is this' Newt's fingers are clumsy on the screen and the adrenaline spike has managed to temporarily clear the alcohol haze from his brain.

'Dr. Vanessa Gottleib. Herman's wife.'

'how do you have my number'

'This is Hermann's phone.'  
'I do hope you're drunk and not bleeding out or concussed somewhere with my husband's dead body.'

"What the fuck?" Newt says, staring down at the phone. Tendo frowns over at him.

"Did the internet send you more Kaiju porn?"

Alexis makes a face like he's just bitten into a lemon.

"Hermann," Newt says. "Your wife wants to know if you're alive."

Hermann manages to launch himself out of his chair and across the room in the time it takes Newt to take a breath to keep talking. He half falls onto the floor beside Newt, swears, and grabs the phone out of his hand.

"What are you doing, you idiot?!"

Newt grins. "I think I just made a new friend."

"You absolutely did not," Hermann says.

Newt just smiles. He'd gotten a look at Vanessa's number, which means he's not going to forget it any time soon. "Whatever you say, Herms."

*

Newt overhears Mako and Becket talking just around the corner, and not even the crate of samples straining his arms can stop him eavesdropping when he catches his name.

"I like him," Becket says. "He's funny. And it's kind of... reassuring, knowing there's still people who can be that innocently passionate about things, even if it's the Kaiju. That's why we go out there. So people like him don’t have to. I need that reminder."

Newt is ... bemused. He wonders if Becket's ever been in a fight outside of a Jaeger that wasn't a training exercise or the result of sleeping with somebody's girlfriend. Wonders if he's ever seen somebody about that obvious as fuck PTSD, or if he's just been hiding from his own mind for the past five years. He's nothing like the kid on the news and the posters and the propaganda bulletins Newt remembers from back then, but watching him desperately play at adulthood is just as uncomfortable as the rockstar pilots era.

Not all civilians are children. Not all children are civilians.

Of course there's a part of Newt that wants to storm around the corner and confront him, wants to say things like "I haven't been innocent since I could read, and hey, can you just define "innocent" for me super quick? Let's talk morality I fucking dare you," and "You realize I work with substances that could kill me in a variety of fun and exciting ways if I touch them or breathe them or am slightly off on the radiation levels?" and "I am always angry, you can't be as fucking smart as I am and not be angry, why the fuck do you think Bruce Banner had seven PHDs?" and "You should definitely talk to a professional about that martyr complex, believe me, I can personally vouch for this recommendation."

He doesn't, of course. He'll take the stairs.

*

Hermann is only ever proportionally impressed by Newt's accomplishments. Academic awards go unremarked, heartfelt appreciation from their superiors silently mocked, stunned adoration from other scientists dismissed. Newt can make scientific discoveries that change the way the field of biology is understood, sit down in front of an instrument he's never laid hands on and provide a flawless performance, write a grant proposal so simultaneously self-aggrandizing and obsequious that the dollars keep streaming in. Hermann remains unmoved.

And yet, when Newt conquers a niggling question about the Kaiju digestive system that he's been staring at for six months, Hermann finally invites him to the weekly 'if we call it poker we look less like alcoholics' night. Newt stays still and polite and quiet during an entire day of meetings with the PPDC higher-ups and Hermann brings him chocolate cake from the German bakery, the one you have to take the Skytrain to get to from the Shatterdome that’s always busy. Newt shoves a sheet of printer paper half covered in his tight, looping handwriting onto Hermann's desk -- "It probably won't ever be something you need, I'm good at catching myself, but-- it's a list of warning signs or whatever. Two columns, it's pretty obvious which is which. Just like, poke me if you ever notice something getting bad." Hermann looks at him like he's just gone head-to-head with a Kaiju and come out on top, like Newt's done something truly remarkable instead of shoving a list of his stupid brain things, unsolicited, into the middle of his obsessively tidy desk.

*

"It's impressive, what you did," Becket tells him, both of them well on their way to drunk. "I don't know if I could have done it."

Newt says "Thanks," because it's what you're supposed to say, and he still doesn't actually like this guy but they are on Team Apocalypse-Canceling Rockstars together (nobody has explained the 'cancel the apocalypse' Shatterdome-wide meme to him and it's driving him nuts), and Vanessa has told him this means he should probably try to get along.

"But I was right," Becket says, in that vaguely patronizing tone that he clearly thinks is kind. "Careful what you wish for. Being that close to a Kaiju not exactly all you dreamed of, was it?"

"Haha," says Newt. "Sure. Yeah. I uhh, sure learned my lesson."

Becket looks deeply unsettled. Newt finishes his drink. He has always been a terrible liar.

*

Newt spent 23 years not understanding what it means to truly struggle for something. The arrival of the Kaiju was the universe finally playing on his level.

After the drift he dreams in blue. He tears through a skyscraper like tissue paper; he hands in his latest report on potential biological weapons; he is curious, but there is a voice in his head saying "destroy/kill/break" and he doesn't know how to say no. He has six sets of teeth and six PHDs and he is going to burn the world to the ground.

There's always a war if you look hard enough.

*

"The planet is in your debt," the UN representative says. "Rangers, Doctors. You folks saved the world."

"We just did what anyone else would do," Becket says.

"We couldn't have done it without everyone who isn't here today," Herk says.

"We could have done it faster if you hadn't cut our funding because the optics of a wall are somehow better than those of giant robots," Hermann doesn't say.

"Are you kidding me," Newt says. "We nuked the ocean. We're the fucking hospice team, if anything."

Mako stares at him like he's personally betrayed her. Newt leaves, and gets lost looking for the lobby, and turns his phone off so he can pretend somebody might try to contact him.

*

Everyone thinks Newt and Hermann are so comfortable together because of their years and years of chosen and forced proximity. This is only partly accurate, because even at their first disastrous in-person encounter, Newt matched his pace to Hermann's, and knew when to look for an elevator and when to take the stairs, and never once made an awkward joke at Hermann's expense. Because on that first meeting Hermann had seen Newt's text messages and already ordered him decaf by the time Newt arrived at the hotel.

Newt romanticizes this for years. Not even his dad can help him through a panic attack without making it a big deal. None of Hermann's siblings can tell when Hermann’s in pain and hiding it.

"It's called being a practical and decent human being," Hermann says, dismissively. "Don't make it more than it is."

Newt decides they're gonna have to agree to disagree.

*

Newt is spoiled for choice when it comes to post-war employment options. He can't say anything, not with Hermann trying to explain the applicability of his predictive models and wormhole theories to skeptical university after sketchy corperation, becoming more and more resigned to his marriage being permanently long-distance the longer things go on. Not with Herk and Mako trudging determinedly forward into the uncaring gears of the military industrial complex, trailing grief and responsibility in their wake. Becket wants to get his psychology degree, and Newt has to literally bite his tongue to avoid crushing his dreams. He's pretty sure Hermann takes him aside and explains that a psych bachelors is going to be about as useful as his high school diploma, because he at least starts looking into BSW programs instead.

So in the face of everybody else's post-war crises, Newt feels childish when he scrolls through the long list of job offers in his email inbox and isn't interested in a single one. The problem is, he'd just assumed Hermann and Vanessa would land in whatever city they chose and Newt would just sort of trail along in their wake, scoop up whatever job was waiting for him, and... well, ok, he really hasn't thought beyond that. Come over for fucking D and D nights and summer barbecues and cry himself to sleep in his unfernished apartment. Whatever.

People keep saying he’ll find something new, but he still doesn’t know what's left when your only passion has been locked away in another dimension forever, no, we swear, there's definitely no chance of the breach reopening, trust us, we're big damn heroes and really don't want the public and/or the UN to lose any more faith in the Jaeger project than they already did. His samples will decay no matter how careful he is. And even if they didn't, nobody cares how the Kaiju work now that they don't need bigger and better ways to kill them. Newt doesn't remember how to live without a challenge.

Lay your weapons down. The war is over.

Keep looking. You aren’t looking hard enough.

*

"Man, this would be way easier for him if you hadn't soled your soul to the private sector," Newt tells Vanessa one night, sitting on the roof of the Shatterdome with his phone smushed against his ear so he can hear her over the rain. "Spousal hires, dude."

"Or perhaps I should have sucked a few cocks and made it big in modeling," she says, "tuck you both away in a Paris penthouse as my kept men."

“Sorry," Newt says. "That was shitty of me. I'm sure whatever megacorp owns the rights to your research this week will handle it with only the most ethical and globally responsible intentions."

"Coordinating three careers was never going to be easy," she says, skipping right past his weak attempt at sabotaging the conversation.

Newt says, "Oh fuck. Wait."

Vanessa obviously holds the phone away from her mouth because the stream of German and English cursing that follows is mostly muted. "I thought I could trust Hermann with this because it's logistical, at least. Pragmatic. Time-sensitive."

"Lars Gottleib," Newt sing-songs.

"At some point that stops being a viable excuse."

Newt rubs rainwater off of his forehead with the back of his hand. "Can you just, clarify here, because, uhh, brain rewiring and my sudden introduction to personal existential nihilism have not been super great for my anxiety."

"Christ," she says. "Newt. Of course we want you to live with us. To be an equal in this."

"But? You're married! You can’t want--"

"Lars Gottleib!" Vanessa crows.

"Excuse me?"

"Quite literally the only reason we're married. I unfortunately met Hermann before he realized his father is an awful person, and he practically bullied us into it. Respectability, you know. It was easier to just go along with it, it was important to Hermann and I wasn't fussed either way. It's not as if we've got any assets between us."

"Still."

"Shut up."

"I have valid concerns, fuck you!" Newt's heart is beating hard enough he can hear his pulse rushing in his ears.

Vanessa audibly takes a deep breath. If Newt thinks about it, it's a miracle she and Hermann managed to make it all the way to marriage without just rage murdering each other. "I know you do, Newt. But I don't know if now is a good time to discuss them. And certainly not without Hermann."

"Yes," he says. "Yes. Ok. I... I gotta go."

He hangs up. By the time Hermann scrambles out onto the roof, clearly having run all the way from the lab, Newt has almost decided definitively that he's going to disappear into the Hong Kong underworld and become second in command of Hannibal Chau's Kaiju crime empire.

Hermann says “Darling," and "I'm sorry," and "Vanessa's terribly angry with me," and "I thought you knew."

Newt says, "In the Mafia nobody can tell you not to clone a Kaiju."

**Author's Note:**

> No, Newt and Raleigh do not in any way understand anything about each other despite what they may think, thank you for asking.


End file.
